


the war is over (and we are beginning)

by mischief7manager



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Prompt Fic, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6329623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mischief7manager/pseuds/mischief7manager
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Greyskull Keep, when Vox Machina returned to it, was exactly as they remembered. It was almost unsettling, how untouched the stone was after the destruction they’d witnessed in the city. When they left, they had all felt, even if they hadn’t said, that their home would be destroyed when next they saw it, but here it was: tall and proud, as strong as it was after its restoration by Pike’s divine helper. </p><p>The Keep was the same. It was its inhabitants who had changed."</p><p>When the fight is won and the dust settles, Vox Machina comes home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the war is over (and we are beginning)

**Author's Note:**

> So an anon on tumblr sent me a prompt asking for "everyone being actually happy for once since the beginning of the show".  
> I wrote this.  
> Clearly I have problems following directions.  
> Title from "In Our Bedroom After the War" by Stars, for obvious reasons. Spoilers through episode 43.

     Greyskull Keep, when Vox Machina returned to it, was exactly as they remembered. It was almost unsettling, how untouched the stone was after the destruction they’d witnessed in the city. When they left, they had all felt, even if they hadn’t said, that their home would be destroyed when next they saw it, but here it was: tall and proud, as strong as it was after its restoration by Pike’s divine helper. 

     The Keep was the same. It was its inhabitants who had changed.

     Kashaw was gone, felled by the dragon’s claws as he poured healing magic into the rest of the party. Kima would live, but her right arm was missing from the bicep down, and Grog would walk with a limp for the rest of his days. Scanlan’s flute playing would suffer for the loss of three fingers on his left hand. The scar that formed from the slash across Vex’s torso would always ache on rainy days. They were all of them bruised and battered, and standing in the courtyard of the Keep, it took a moment for them to reconcile their aching hearts and bodies with the pristine image before them. Zahra had taken her leave to spend some time in the surrounding countryside alone, and after sharing embraces and farewells, they had left the tiefling to grieve her friend and brother in her own fashion. Allura had stayed in the city to oversee the beginning of the reconstruction, with Gilmore, Drake, and Kima to assist her. The party had offered each of their allies a place in the Keep, but each had refused. This homecoming was for Vox Machina. 

     It was Vax who moved first, making his way to the doors into the Keep proper. With Keyleth’s help, he pushed them open, and they all stepped through to the foyer. The last of the evening sun’s rays illuminated the familiar interior, the rugs and tapestries, the stone walls and floor. 

     “Well,” Percy said. His voice was rough with use and exhaustion. “Here we are.” 

     Vex, being supported by his arm around her waist, smiled faintly at his characteristic gift for understatement. “Here we are.” 

     Grog, leaning heavily on Trinket, huffed a laugh. “Can’t say I expected this.”

     Pike tilted her head back to look at Grog’s face. “The keep still being here, or you still being here?”

     He shrugged. “Both.” He winced, struggling to keep weight off the leg that had been nearly wrenched from his body during the fight. Trinket, sensing his discomfort, whuffed and pressed against him, and Grog sighed as he leant harder against his furry friend. 

     “I don’t think any of us expected to be here.” Scanlan spoke softly, as though afraid to disturb the tranquility before them. He cradled one bandaged hand to his chest, dried blood staining the white cloth, but there was a hint of a wry smile on his face. “Let alone all of us.”

     “Not all of us.” All heads turned to Keyleth as she spoke for the first time since the battle ended. Her eyes were red rimmed as she stood in the chamber, unfocused as though seeing something other than the foyer of the Keep. 

     Vax, his fingers twined with hers, felt her grip tighten. She had not let go of him since the battle ended, either. “No,” he agreed, “not all of us.” 

     Still holding Keyleth’s hand, Vax stepped forward, moving down the hall. The others followed. Their steps echoed faintly against the stone. Pike, at the rear of the group, pause to glance into the temple of Sarenrae. This, too, was as she had left it, and the sunset filtering in the through the windows lit the chapel with warmth. She smiled, pressed a hand to her holy symbol, offering a quick prayer of thanks, then walked on.

     Vax led them to the dining room. They all sat, most with sighs of relief at taking weight off their injuries, or just from being able to take a moment to be still. “Grog?” The goliath looked up at Vax’s question, his brow furrowed. “You still got that cask of ale?”

     Grog’s expression cleared, and he nodded. Slowly, he reached into the bag of holding and pulled out first the cask, then seven tankards. The others sat in easy silence as he filled each and passed it down, until everyone was holding a drink. 

     Again, Vax was the first to act. He raised his tankard in the hand not twined with Keyleth’s. “To Kashaw.” 

     Percy raised his tankard. “To Uriel.”

     “To our mother.” Vex’s eyes were damp, but her voice was strong.

     Scanlan, too, raised his tankard. “To our city.”

     Pike lifted her mug, comically large in her gnomish grip. “To our home.”

     Grog raised his tankard. “To killing some fucking dragons.” 

     Slowly, Keyleth raised her tankard. “To us,” she said. 

     With that, they drank their toast, to the living and the dead. The room was silent for a moment, save for the sound of tankards coming to rest on the table. 

     Suddenly, Keyleth giggled. Everyone’s eyes went to her, and covered her mouth with her hand, face flushing. “It’s just- Do you remember-” directed to Vax “-do you remember, when we were chasing the rakshasa, for the take, and we were going down that awful sewer, and Kashaw lost his footing-”

     Vax chuckled. “He went sliding down the tunnel like a kid on a sled.”

     Keyleth nodded. “I’ve never seen someone look so- so  _ put out _ , sliding on their ass down a tunnel of sewage.”

     Slowly, the laughter made its way to each member of the group, as Vax and Keyleth told the story of their fight with the sewer rats. As the evening turned to night, the conversation wove its way through stories and memories, at first of Kashaw, but soon of other friends, of Uriel, of Emon before the fall. There was laughter, and there were tears, but more of the former than the latter. They mourned their losses and celebrated their victories in one, until the weight of the day pressed heavy on their eyelids. By unspoken agreement, they stretched out there on the floor in the dining room, no one wanting to leave the presence of the others.

     An outside observer who happened upon them that night would be unlikely to recognize the haphazard pile of limbs and bodies as Vox Machina, who only that day had destroyed the greatest threat to ever face Tal’Dorei. Grog lay on his back, his healing leg arranged carefully so as not to be jostled by anyone in their sleep. Curled against his side was Pike, her hair even more halo-like than usual pillowed on Grog’s chest. Scanlan used Grog’s bicep for a pillow, his feet just pressing into Trinket’s side. Vex rested her head on one of Trinket’s massive legs, her fingers carded through his fur. Stretched out on his side next to her lay Percy, one arm draped over her waist. Keyleth’s back pressed against Percy’s, her face buried in Vax’s chest. Vax’s arms were around Keyleth’s shoulders, the pair pressed together as though they couldn’t bear to be even inches apart. 

     In the morning would come more aches and pains, more healing and rebuilding, all the hundred thousand tasks that came with starting life over again. But for tonight, they rested, drawing comfort from each other’s touch. For tonight, they were finally at peace. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you, too, would like to send me a prompt so I can write a fic that will probably turn out to be nothing like you expected or imagined, send me an ask at mischief7manager over on tumblr. 
> 
> Sorry. Again.


End file.
